


Tied-Up.

by SlySama



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: AU Sixth Year., Large Penis., M/M, Magical restraints., Mentions of sex and vague details., Student-Teacher Affair., Underage [16], Unhealthy but glorious crushes., spanking., tattoos.
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-09
Updated: 2020-05-09
Packaged: 2021-03-03 00:48:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,649
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24086110
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SlySama/pseuds/SlySama
Summary: Harry Potter is in his Sixth Year, he basically has insomnia, who wouldn’t? His friends are constantly smothering him, Dumbledore’s constantly asking him to his office and McGonagall’s badgering him about things she already knows he has. Snape’s fed up with constantly having to tell Harry that he’s not supposed to wander, and Harry’s got this…not altogether “healthy” interest in his Potions Professor.When one night Harry’s gets caught, Snape’s a little…Overzealous with his wayward student, the student constantly driving him mental, but turns out…Neither mind’s this all that much.
Relationships: Harry Potter/Severus Snape
Comments: 2
Kudos: 128





	Tied-Up.

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter. This is purely for pleasure and the enjoyment from a good smutty story.

Harry was down near the dungeons when he should have been up in his warm covers in the Gryffindor Boy’s Dormitory; but he wasn’t. He couldn’t sleep, not with all the recent attacks.

So…He was…out after curfew, when he knew he wasn’t **allowed** to be, and he found himself surprised when a velvety voice **dripping** with annoyance broke into his solemn silence. His hand was on the doorhandle of an unused classroom right that moment, though he had no idea why he’d been about to enter it.

The raven jumped and spun, his hands coming behind him as he was pushed up against the woodgrain of the door; though not physically, just Snape’s **stare** could do that to a person, he reflected with a scowl unfortunately covering his features going completely unchecked.

His solitude and brief glimpse into rebelliousness; wandering the castle late at night had been foiled yet again.

Snape was glaring now. His wand held aloft and brightening as he grew closer and hissed into the teens annoyed and anxious features. ‘What on Merlin’s green earth are you doing down here, Potter? You are **not** to wander the castle at night, you know this.’ He ground, almost brandishing the wand tip.

Harry said nothing, just clenched his teeth. There wasn’t really anything he could say that wouldn’t get him further in trouble and deep in debt with the House Rubies. 

‘ _Well_ ?’ The man practically hissed. He was clearly angry.

Harry, of course, didn’t really the blame the bloke for being this way. What with Harry’s **constant** rebelling for his night-time walks, and just about every other rebellious act recently; but, it was really the only time he got to himself these days.

The dorm was **always** alive with chatter, until they went to bed. His friends were all over him to keep him safe and Dumbledore was constantly asking him to his office for “Tea”; he was sure that was probably sparking rumours he wasn’t keen to listen to, and old Professor McGonagall was stopping him after **every second** **class** just to ask him he’d been having any nightmares; of course he fucking was!!

He had a fucking scar on his forehead that connected him to Voldemort’s little “Happy Play Times” and Harry was absolutely fucking **rubbish** at Occlumency. That was probably in no due part because Snape refused to teach properly and in fact, refused to teach Harry **AT ALL**.

He’d expressly apologised already!

Harry sighed; not on purpose, but he couldn’t help the leakage of frustration, or that the doorknob was now starting to dig into his spine. Snape kept getting closer; his obsidian eyes were now dark swirling pools of abyss; they promised punishment. Never didn’t actually.

Snape’s tone was dark as he spoke again, his eyes narrowed as he finally halted an **inch** from Harry’s body, the light at the end of his ebony wand burning into Harry’s light-sensitized corneas. The teen’s own wand hadn’t been out because the Portrait’s had been complaining about “Sleeping”.

Harry angled his head away from it with a brief hiss escaping through his teeth.

‘Very well, you leave me with no alternatives anymore. You have purposefully been disobedient one to many times. I am at my absolute **last** nerve, in regard to this continued ignorance of your **own** self-preservation. Your life is at stake, how many times **must** we imbue this into your **THICK** skull?’ He growled then, tapping the tip of the wand on Harry’s head as he said, “Thick skull”.

Harry winced. Ow.

‘There are Junior Death Eater’s among these walls, Potter.’ He then smacked the wall with a hand and Harry tried not to jerk. ‘I know this. You know this. **Everyone** in the Order knows this, **this is why we set rules** , Potter, and you are purposefully ignoring them!’ His voice went up an octave, but he kept his voice reasonably below a shout.

It was late after all. Snape’s wand even stabbed the air and brightened at his anger flaring; Harry turned his head a little further to the right to try avoiding it blare into his eyes.

‘Your housemates will now find themselves 100 points **less** when they wake, that is if you don’t find yourself to be further disobedient this evening and give me any attitude. Move. March. That way.’ His long fingers came through the brightness surrounding them and enclosed around Harry’s collared shirt— he’d not bothered undressing from his school uniform so still wore it—and tossed him down through the darkness that was the corridor they’d come, because he’d not seen the directional pointing. **Behind him**.

_[ ][ ][ ]_

Harry couldn’t help but look behind him once or twice, staring at the Professor’s illuminated stark features. They were, of course, set into a perfect scowl. He turned back and stopped when Snape’s larger hand suddenly found itself in the middle of his back; he stumbled forwards, being propelled onwards at the man’s set pace.

Right.

Harry swallowed to think what the Master had in mind…

It was late for a detention of gutting things and scrubbing fruitlessly at disgustingly caked on cauldrons and, as Snape steered them, to Harry’s horror, downwards, instead of taking him back up to the Grand Staircase and to his Dormitory, Harry swallowed even more around a dry throat. Snape seemed really angry, and his propelling hand was a bit **rough** in the middle of the raven’s back.

It was dark, dank and there was a chill settling into Harry’s bones as they went deeper than the normal first staircase into the Potions Corridor. He swallowed again, rubbing at his arms through his thin uniform shirt; without realising where they’d ended up, or frankly actually knowing, Harry flinched when a portrait shifted aside to reveal a dimly lit interior of a room, and then jerked when he was pushed unceremoniously inside and the frame slammed behind him, **just** missing taking his arse in it.

He rubbed at it self-consciously for a moment before letting out a shocked gasp when he was almost **instantaneously slammed** against that rough wood door and its metal-panelling that had appeared afterwards. Damn.

His body went rigid and he made an involuntary noise as his wrists were grabbed from his sides and hauled up above his messy head, kept there by strong **unyielding** fingers.

It was just one hand, the other beside Harry’s head, bringing the man that much closer to his immediately sweating body; he could feel eyes boring into him; his own lids were closed. There was an edge of his shirt riding up from where it was scrunched up against the rough woodgrain, he could have sworn that’s where the eyes were riveted.

**WHAT THE BLOODY HELL WAS GOING ON?!**

Unable to curb his body’s reaction to the emanating heat before it—he was a teenager after all, and one that was currently finding himself being suddenly **dominated** by his strict Potions Teacher, that let it not be said, at all, or ever repeated, he had a **teensy** little bit of a completely unhealthy and outrageously fucked up crush on. Somewhere down the line, he had absolutely no idea how, but that had happened. He tried not to think about it, at all. Definitely not in the shower. Or in his bed. Or in the room of requirement—Harry bucked his hips then almost **immediately** tried to still them as he realised he had done so and that that reaction might well cause one in **SNAPE**.

He wasn’t sure that he wanted **ANY** kind of reaction, but, the bloke would definitely notice, right? Harry wasn’t exactly…Unresponsive. His body’s involuntary shift had brought the Professor closer, and Harry wasn’t altogether sure he wanted the man **any** closer than he had been; despite the aforementioned, completely **fucked up** crush he had. Now, Snape was bound to notice, right? 

Snape had already been way to close for comfort, **now** , he definitely was. His knee was wedged between Harry’s unconsciously spread thighs, **pushing** right up against his crotch so… **How would the man NOT notice?!**

The jet-black fringe that was a bit overgrown covered his bright emerald irises as he looked between his long dark lashes, staring up into the dark black. An eyebrow rose slowly, with a slight tilt to the man’s head, and a quirk to the edge of his mouth.

Um?

He felt his face flush.

Professor’s don’t push you up against their dungeon doors, usually, right? And certainly not Professor’s that proclaim you the bane of their existence, right? Harry was **so** confused, and apparently, very weak.

His confusion only grew when the older man’s face came closer and the knee wedged up between his tightening thighs, pushed itself further upwards, driving Harry’s ball sack uncomfortably upwards within his dampening underwear, making his hardened cock only that much harder, to the point where it was leaking and aching.

The raven was inwardly panicking. **Shit and fucking STUPID hormones!**

A noise came out of his throat without conscious thought and he flushed further, his body just that **little bit** going limp as he stood on tiptoe.

‘What do we have here, Mister Potter?’

Harry’s eyes wandered, his body squirming under the man’s sexy, chocolatey smooth fucking voice.

The knee pushed up again and Harry almost **keened** ; biting down on his lip to prevent it from escaping his vocal chords. It probably showed on his traitorous tanned features though, if the man could see clearly in the dim lighting; he was, after all, used to it.

‘Perhaps, you were out and about being reckless with your life to rendezvous with a lover?’ Harry slowly shook his head, eyes closing, knowing he was only going to damn himself for denying it. ‘No?’ The tone was disbelieving but intrigued by the negative response.

Harry shake his head again, head now angled away to his left; he could feel Snape’s hot breath on his cheek. Chocolatey and smoky, but the man didn’t seem imbibed in any way; though, feeling this was somehow a bonus, the man’s actions weren’t exactly…”Normal”.

‘Now, you wouldn’t be trying to lie to me, would you Potter?’ He drawled, his lips skating over the very outer-edge of his ear; it sent a shiver down Harry’s whole body. He swung his dark mass around the reddened, peaking ears in the negative to the man’s question once more, obviously not about to trust his voice one bit. ‘…I see…’ Snape shifted.

The hand that was beside Harry’s head drew back and downwards, fingering the soft material of the rumpled school shirt. Harry almost whimpered, biting down **hard** on his lip; eyes closed. His entire body was on edge, shuddering sporadically. There was a brief pause with the edging of material. ‘What is that?’ and then the fingers grabbed roughly and pulled from the tanned stomach.

Harry attempted to look down at the sudden harshness but, since the man was already so close, he only succeeded in pressing his sweating forehead to the Professor’s covered chest instead. There was a steadily bouncing, **thump, thump, thump** beneath the material layers.

‘Sir?’ Stuttered, questioning, quiet and muffled by the fabric pressed beneath his face, his lips dragged on the dark material; he hated the slight quaver his voice produced.

‘My. We are rebellious, aren’t we Potter?’ The material was pulled, and the buttons began scattering between them; Harry watched, awkwardly from his position as one rolled away and disappeared beneath a cracked stone. ‘How, precisely, let alone **when** may I ask, Mister Potter—He practically **purred** —did you acquire this precious little accessory?’ A finger poked the spot.

Harry shivered.

Oh. That.

Well…

He supposed…

He had snuck out to Hogsmeade one weekend, a few weeks ago, he supposed, when he’d been **supposed** to have been having a detention, which had been completely **unfairly** given by the way, with the new dumbass Defence Teacher, after ditching his friends of course -which had been no easy feat- and then, wandering for several minutes under his invisibility cloak, he had taken notice of a brand new storefront down the end of the high street.

It had been lit with two large pulsating iridescent lanterns on either side of the large intricately carved cherry wood doorframe. The lanterns had cast flickering shadows on the highly sparkling window panes, which had been decaled, seemingly from the inside, with large branches of a cherry tree.

The flowers had blown, appearing as though touched by a gust of the chilly wind outside, when he had walked up to them.

He may not have been exactly…old enough, but he was **more** **than** sick of everyone telling him what he can and cannot do, as the case undoubtedly would have been.

He had taken the brass doorhandle, turned the knob and walked inside with a tiny brass bell dinging his entrance to the owner inside;, whostood behind a similarly cherry wood reception counter. The mid-40 year old man had smiled mischievously at him before ushering him behind a curtained off archway and into a laid back creamed leather chair, with a wire bound book being shoved into his hands.

He had blinked at it for several minutes, then had weathered the **extreme** pain, to get the desired beauty that stretched from his hip to his ribcage; it wasn’t exactly a “Small” treasure. He had overpaid, but he couldn’t fault the artists’ skills with a magical ink needle. The inked carvings, because there was two, were so beautiful on his tanned skin.

‘You are not of age for these, Potter.’ Snape’s finger trailed from medium trilling scarlet Phoenix, fluttering with its own unique magic, and tempo, to the golden snitch that remained, flittering, clutched in the claws of the ancient firebird. ‘Let alone’ He growled low ‘are you allowed to be out of school grounds **without** permission, just as much, as you are **not** allowed to be wandering the halls of the castle after curfew.’ He was hissing again, his hand now gripping tight around the raven’s hipbone.

Harry’s head banged back against the door.

‘Do you **really** like Fawkes that much?’ The lips were quirked, as Harry peaked through his long lashes up at him.

‘He’s comforting…’ He mumbled.

‘Is he now?’ There was a small quaver to the older man’s voice now.

Harry grumbled; annoyed at the laughing behind the man’s inquires to his insistent erection that was not, in the least, going away.

‘…And the Snitch? Why did you get that?’ His finger was caressing.

Harry licked his lips, his lids flickering as he tried to shrug indifferently but squeaked as a cold hand found its way up his abdomen—causing it to clench from the slow caress—before spreading heavily across his erratically thumping heart.

Harry felt like the organ was trying to leap straight out of his chest; the **thump, thump, thump** was so loud in the quiet room; he wondered if the Professor could actually **hear** it?

At any rate… Snape’ll certainly be able to feel it skipping beneath his palm.

Wait. Hadn’t Snape mentioned punishment before? This…Surely wasn’t the punishment the Professor had been likely alluding too, right?

If it was, this was bit…improper, for a teacher; wasn’t it?

Though, the raven would probably be the first to admit, this kind of punishment, **might** just make him a bit more obedient… Perhaps Snape had finally realised, that an “unconventional” punishment was in order?

He gasped suddenly, as out of nowhere, as his mind had momentarily drifted, Snape had seen fit to grab him about the throat. He blinked rapidly, swallowing thickly around the long thin fingers of one Potions Master’s hand. The other appeared to be keeping his hands above his head now, before abruptly twisting him and propelling him, stumbling, forwards a few paces to a nearby desk that sat pressed up against the jagged, roughened stone of the dungeon walls.

Harry’s forehead hit the hard mahogany of the table with a thunk and a groan from his throat, echoing as a hand pushed downwards in the center of his back. There was no reaction to this sound, in fact, Snape was now stepping **away** from him, with, presumably, confidence that Harry would stay put having bound the tanned wrists, in a cross, at the base of his naked tailbone, with magical rope.

Presumably…He was admiring his handywork.

Harry’s shirt was now completely gone; a simple wave of Snape’s hand.

Um?

‘U—

‘I do not believe you will be needing these anymore either…’ It was a low mutter, that resonated around the room, before the teen found himself sans pants and undergarments, with his front immediately sagging into the desk.

‘Oh, please. Red, Mister Potter?’ Snape’s laughter caused a jerk from the raven haired teen. Apparently, in the few seconds before his clothes vanished Snape had seen his shorts. So what anyway? What was wrong with wearing red pants? He glowered into the tabletop before squirming, buck naked, arse on clear display, feeling the heated stare of his Potions Master.

The shiver that ran up his spine had nothing to do with the chill of the dungeons dancing across his flushing naked body. He tried to speak, but blinked when nothing actually came **out**.

‘You won’t be needing any…words.’ The tone was still laughing. ‘Just stay right there, obediently; not that you have much choice in the matter, and it’ll be over before you know it. Maybe.’ He chuckled, his body shifting to stand closer to Harry’s. Harry could feel the distinction and shivered.

Where was this going?

...?

He thought he…might have an idea…

He thought he knew…

But, it wouldn’t hurt to be wrong.

Or…

**SMACK!**

**It certainly hurt to be right**. His whole body jumped with the sudden impact, and his vocal chords let out an involuntary yelp that echoed around them.

**SMACK!**

**Ow. Ow. Ow, ow, ow!!!**

Harry whimpered into the mahogany as the smacks increased, as well as the intensity behind the hand striking his bared rear. He did his damnedest to ignore the droplets of clear fluid that smeared beneath his flushed cheek and tried to muffle the hiccupping sobs and sniffles with his head dragging roughly back and forwards across the desk.

Okay. So…damn. Snape certainly didn’t have the emotional range of a teaspoon, or anything emotionally like **anyone** else. The man could go from aggravatingly pissed, to sexy as fuck teaser, to fucking straight up pissed, and apparently…Straight up Horny, as suddenly…the range of the large hand on his smarting bum **changed**. The intensity decreased to a few light swats and pleasant stinging rubs on his quivering scarlet globes.

There was a low breath blowing across them, stinging the fingerprint welts, breezing over his pulsating puckered entrance, where Snape now held him very open; his fingers bruising. He wasn't sure about Snape's plans but it did otherwise make **Harry’s** perception change of the situation; he found himself beginning to beg, quietly, and mumbling into the desk, but begging none the less. For what? He wasn’t the slightest sure.

_[ ][ ][ ]_

The raven teen sat, stunned, unbelieving and **sore** on his rumpled mattress duvet, up in Gryffindor Tower, in the Sixth-Year boy’s dormitory; his curtains were closed so he wasn’t worried anyone would wake and notice he was just staring off into space.

Every once in a while, he would blink, shake himself and then stare again.

He just couldn’t believe it.

‘Did I just do that?’ He questioned himself, silently.

The steady throbbing in his backside and the magical rope burns around his wrists certainly seemed to scream at him with a definite “ **YES!** ” but he couldn’t have, right? There’s no way a fantasy like that would just…play out.

No fucking way.

He breathed shakily.

‘ **No. Fucking. Way**.’ He whispered heatedly, covering his mouth, and widening his eyes in absolute horror. That was **not** the way he wanted that to happen, if at all that would have ever happened, and obviously he hadn’t ever thought that **would** happen.

But…He had fantasied about it; he could admit that now. But, there was a method to that fantasy madness, and that wasn’t **quite** how he had seen his fantasy being played out.

‘Holy shit.’ He continued whispering, hand over his mouth.

He let a bit of pent up hysterical laughter bubble forth and spill out in a low but sharp few barks. ‘I had sex.’ He shook his black head of hair. ‘No. No. I had sex with **Snape**.’ He shook it again, eyes clearing and cock hardening again.

Fuck.

‘I had sex with Snape’s gloriously full, gloriously thick, gloriously silky and red and fucking LARGE, cock. His cock.’ Fuck. It was huge. In his arse. In his mouth because he remembered **doing** that, but for the life of him it was really hard to picture it super clearly; like, his mind was entirely foggy when he’d done it. granted, it had probably been in complete shock at the time.

If he took a moment, he could actually still **taste** the man on his tongue.

‘Mm. Wow.’ He let his body fall backwards and his arms come up to cover his eyes momentarily. It wasn’t long, as his mind started to drift and had come out of that delighted shock that such a thing would, **could** ever happen with Snape, that he would **ever** have that man’s decidedly large and delicious penis anywhere **near** him, that his stomach would be gloriously full with the man's hot spunk, that his taught and sleep deprived body relaxed and plunged into dreamland.

While he slept, he dreamt of being disobedient, dreamt of being caught out of curfew again, dreamt of His big cock, dreamt of His acerbic sharp tongue, dreamt of His sharp swats, tender kisses, tender caresses, His tight bonds, His electrifying magic, he dreamt of seducing the Potions Master.


End file.
